


A Sure Thing

by caliowl



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Especially one he's going to win, Gambling, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Stanley loves a good gamble, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caliowl/pseuds/caliowl
Summary: Stan shows off that he can cook. Ford is impressed.
Relationships: Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	A Sure Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cellard00rs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/gifts).



> This is something I originally wrote for Cellard0ors for the Stancest Valentines Exchange, before their valentine was delivered. So now it's just a fic for Cellar for funsies! I hope you like it!
> 
> A great, big thank you to my beta yehvaru for looking this over for me :D

It started off with a passing comment. Something throwaway, not to be taken seriously, but Stanley was nothing if not opportunistic.

“I’d do  _ anything _ for a delicious meal right now,” Ford said with a dramatic sigh of longing, as he leaned back in his seat at the Stan O’ War II’s kitchenette. 

Stanley perked up immediately, smelling the potential for a lock, betting-wise. “ _ Anything _ , Sixer?”

Stanford, too tired to notice the greedy light in Stan’s eyes, merely nodded tiredly and rested his head in folded arms on the tabletop. “Not that I don’t appreciate the food you cook, I do! But it would be nice to have something different now and then. More…” He appeared to search for the word. “You know, something you don’t have very often…” Then he lifted his head and snapped his fingers. “ _ Decadent _ !  _ That’s _ the word!” 

He turns to look at Stan. “Do you think we could find a nice restaurant in the city where we’re currently docked?”

“Sixer, this place is, like, the definition of hoity-toity,” Stan had replied. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get a bottle of  _ water _ for less than ten dollars here.”

Stanford sighed rather dramatically and lowered his forehead to the tabletop in despair.

“‘Course, if something  _ decadent _ is what you’re after, I could do that.”

Ford didn’t even look up from the tabletop he was currently using as a pillow. He just waved an arm in Stanley’s direction. “No, Stanley, no stealing tonight. I just want a nice, quiet evening without getting run out of somewhere for once.”

“Hey, smartass!” Stan shot back. “I’m sayin’  _ I’ll _ make you that decadent dinner, alright?”

Stanford rolled his head to the side to frown at his twin. “Why would you do that? You don’t have to bother trying to make something fancy, Stanley, we’ll just eat what we’ve got on the ship.”

“What? Think I can’t do it?”

“Well…”

Stan gritted his teeth. “Listen, just because I’ve been phoning it in lately doesn’t mean I can’t cook a mean meal when I want to, you know! I’ll show you! And then you’ll have to do whatever I want!”

Ford shot up ramrod straight. “Wait, wait, wait! Why am I doing whatever you want? When did this happen?”

“Since you said you’d do  _ anything  _ for a delicious meal! Plus, you’re being a jerk about my cooking skills.”

Ford’s frown had transformed then, bowed mouth softening into a challenging smile. The kind he got right before he went running after some strange, new anomaly. “You’re on.” He’d said.

Stan smirked. Sixer had no idea what he was in for.

* * *

Stanford could only stare down in his plate in shock.

He’d had  _ no _ idea Stanley could cook like this!

Back when he’d first made the agreement with Stanely yesterday evening, he hadn’t been expecting much. After all, Stanley hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he’d been “phoning in'' dinner. Heating up fish sticks and veggie burgers, scrambling some eggs, and when he felt particularly adventurous, throwing some dried pasta in a pot and heating up some pre-made sauce. Stanford had thought he’d had this bet in the bag.

But as he stares down at the beef wellington on his plate, served with a side of tiny potatoes and green beans, he has to admit that he’s been had.

“There’s also chocolate eclairs for dessert,” Stanley adds.

Smug bastard.

Ford opens his mouth to say something - anything. But his words fail him, and he ends up with his jaw hanging open.

Stanley reaches across the table and gently closes his mouth. “I know.” He says, arrogantly, with a wide smirk stretched across his face. “Just take your time. Let it just...sink in.”

Ford glares at him and Stanley laughs. “You really played this particular card close to the vest, didn’t you?” He asks.

“Hey,” Stanley says with a shrug, “you never know when a particular skill will come in handy.”

What a skill it was! It appeared that Stanley had baked the puff pastry to perfection, a very difficult thing to do, especially with beef inside of it.

“Well, don’t just sit there staring at it like one of your anomalies! Tuck in, Sixer! Let me know what you think.” Stan says eagerly, clearly impatient for Ford to taste his cooking.

Ford takes up a fork and knife and makes a careful cut into the wellington. The puff pastry releases a delicate  _ crinkle _ as it’s speared by the fork and a delicious  _ crunch _ as he slices through with the knife. He pulls the small piece he’d cut aside so he could peer into the pastry. The beef is beautifully cooked - a lovely pink inside. 

“What’re you doing? Dissecting it? Eat it, already, ya nerd!” 

Ford huffs and pops the piece he cut into his mouth.

_ Oh… _

There’s a crispness from the pastry as he bites down and the beef practically melts in his mouth. The combination of the flaky pastry, mushrooms and beef is heavenly, and Ford finds himself closing his eyes in bliss, savoring the flavor.

When he opens his eyes, it’s to find his twin sitting back in the seat across from him, one hand propping up his head with a warm smile on his face. “Good?” He asks playfully.

“It’s  _ delicious _ , Stanley!” Ford bursts out. “The puff pastry is absolutely divine! However did you get it so flaky while cooking a perfect beef tenderloin inside?”

Stanley simply raises a forefinger to the side of his nose. “Chef’s secret, Sixer.” He winks and Ford chuckles.

“This is incredible, Stanley. Truly.” Ford tells his twin, reaching a hand across the table. Stanley reaches back, taking his hand in a loving grip. “How did I ever get so lucky to have such a talented man in my life?”

“You were just you, Sixer. That’s all,” Stanley tells him, with a tender smile, and Ford blushes hard at the compliment.

They let go to comfortably eat the rest of their meal, trading stories and laughing as they ate. When they finish, Stanley sweeps away their empty plates and replaces them with a small chocolate eclair each. 

“I’m assuming you made these, as well?” Ford asks.

“Of course!” Stan replies with mock indignance. “Sixer, I plan on winning this bet fair and square! Now, open up,” he says, picking up the eclair from the plate and hovering it before Ford’s shocked face. 

Ford blinks a few times as his brain catches up with what’s happening before he opens his mouth to receive the sweet treat. As Stan brings it to his mouth, Ford leans forward and takes a small bite. 

Just like with the beef wellington from earlier, the taste explodes on his tongue. There’s a crispness to the pastry, which contrasts well with the smoothness of the filling. And the chocolate topping contrasts equally well with the vanilla cream.

He realizes he’s closed his eyes again when he’s opened them to a smirking Stanley. “Good?” He asks, again. 

“How are you  _ such _ an amazing cook?” Ford asks. “You named your famous pancakes for the fact that you get your  _ hair _ in them!”

Stanley laughs, throwing his head back in mirth. “Let’s just say I took a  _ lot _ of odd jobs back in the day.”

Ford raises an eyebrow at that, and Stanley relents. “When I was younger, I ran into a guy named Vic who wanted to own a famous French restaurant. What he got was a hole in the wall with me and a bunch of other drifters. He tried to teach us some recipes to get by, and I guess a few just...stuck.”

Ford smiles. “You’re just full of surprises.” 

Stanley returns the look with one of his own. “I could say the same about you.”

Suddenly, a thought occurs to Ford. “Speaking of surprises, now that you’ve  _ thoroughly _ abused me of my initial assumption as to your cooking skills, what is it you want me to do?”

“Ah, asking me to collect on your debt so soon? Mighty cocky of you, don’cha think?”

“Stanley.”

His twin leaned back in his seat, casting his eyes toward the ceiling in mock thought. “Let’s see...what to do with Ford…”

Ford laughs. “Come on, I know you already know what you’re going to ask me to do. Don’t act like you’re just considering this now.”

Stanley raises an eyebrow at him. “ _ Someone _ really wants to do the dishes.”

Ford stares in surprise. “The  _ dishes _ ? Seriously? You get me to say that I’ll do  _ anything _ and your first thought is the dishes?”

Stanley shrugs with a grin on his face. “There are a  _ lot _ of dishes, Ford.”

Ford stares at him for a few seconds, testing him. Then decides to call his bluff. “Very well,” he says, rising from his place at the kitchenette. “Although I planned to do them anyway, since you cooked.” He takes his plate and goes for Stanley’s when a hand closing over his wrist stops him.

“Sixer. If you don’t take me to bed this very second, I swear to you, it won’t just be the food you’ll never be able to eat again.”

Ford laughs. “What? You won’t be on the menu anymore?”

“You laugh, Sixer, but do you really wanna try me?”

“No,” Ford says, setting down the plates and sliding his hand down into Stanley’s hold. “That’s something I’d never gamble.”


End file.
